


Sweetheart

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied Relationships, M/M, Manipulation, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Oumoron, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Smut, Stalking, Sumb, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unfortunate Implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-17 23:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Kokichi used to hate coffee and drank it spitefully, merely wishing to survive college. Then he moved and found himself living across from a family owned coffee shop with the most attractive man he's ever seen working there.So, they end up both being horror and murder mystery fans. It's impossible to not start writing one after learning that. Kokichi just hopes that Saihara actually likes it.





	1. Single Origin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReturnToZero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReturnToZero/gifts).



> Happy birthday, my good friend Zetta! Though this is early and not completed... I swear I'll get to the spicy spicy goodness soon.

It has been a grand total of three months since Kokichi became a regular at the coffee shop across from his apartment. A nice middle road of cheap and expensive, just like the rest of the area, nestled near a seaside tourist spot in a seaside town. Rural but not, quiet but not dead-

A nice place for Kokichi to settle in after getting utterly sick of city life.

The fact that a barista known as Saihara Shuichi makes the best cup of coffee known to man, and okay- look. Kokichi is fully aware that ‘kinda maybe dropping out of Tokyo U’ and moving away to some secluded coastal town means that he’s not exactly using his full mental capacity to make decisions. However, using his brain to the fullest is what led Kokichi to a breakdown in the middle of the school year the day after getting drunk off his ass. Screaming into public restrooms while panicked isn’t fun.

So skipping town and trying to start over at a hole in the wall town. Inadvisably cliche coffee shop crushes and all. Kokichi does all his learning and classes from a little corner in the back, far more relaxed than before. Writes in between saving his average. 

Dark blue-green hair like the ocean, melty gold eyes, a breathlessly soft voice. Taller.

Kokichi has it bad for his favorite barista and he is absolutely fine with his brain’s choice in latch on target. Saihara is going to a semi-local place in order to become a private detective like his uncle. He’s intelligent, he actually likes talking with Kokichi, and they’ve spent hours conversing before. The Iruma chick that also works here becomes 100% more manageable the moment that Saihara opens his mouth. The man is like magic.

Crushing on a clearly confident and sophisticated man? Slightly older and with a future in law enforcement of some sort? Quite possibly the one time that Kokichi has been forced to admit it, but he has good tastes. 

It isn't everyday that Kokichi meets anyone willing to put up with him for more than half an hour at a time.

Or willing to actually start flirting with his virgin ass.

Sure, Kokichi will talk big to Iruma about how much of a whore she is. That’s just all good fun and jokes though, just how the two of them ended up clicking after that first week of glares and hissing. Saihara and Iruma though? Kokichi often hears snippets of what seems to be the two talking about kinks and their own sex lives. Then Saihara will be so damn smooth at other times.

If Saihara ever mentions having a foot fetish for example. Kokichi would drop everything in order to google how to make one’s feet as smooth and alluring as possible.

So this is Kokichi’s life right now. Going to uni online and writing a murder mystery novel all from the back of the coffee shop that he haunts almost all day, everyday. Staring at the expansive ass that not even it’s owner can hide with slimming black slacks. Being in awe at the laid back and thoughtful responses of a detective in training. Imagining silly shit like both of their names on a published book while taking a break from ‘thinky thought’ classes.

A Psychology major in love with a Criminology major that wants to become a Private Detective. Investigator. Whatever.

The point is that Kokichi is watching his life become the start of a silly romance novel while his crush brews his coffee. He wakes up each day and immediately thinks, oh man! I can't wait to see my beloved Saihara. When Saihara has off days or is too busy to talk during the weekends with too many tourists, Kokichi's mood plummets. 

Only slight, but still. 

That time when Saihara hadn't been working at all due to visiting relatives? Utter hell. 

At some point, Kokichi is going to have to stop calling this a crush. He knows it's not a crush anymore. 

For now though… for now Kokichi will just watch Saihara frown slightly at the espresso machine. It's a wonderful frown. Saihara has great lips that perfectly fit on his rather androgynous face, though Iruma has shown Kokichi pictures of high school Saihara. Saihara still is so stupidly pretty. 

“Ouma-kun?” comes said man's worried voice. 

Kokichi blinks and laughs at the sight of Saihara staring at him with obvious concern. 

“Sorry, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I hate Freudian psychology still being so popular in fiction,” Kokichi lies. 

Saihara smiles slowly, “You do like to talk about old psychology theories.”

Oh God what if I annoy him, Kokichi considers.

No, Saihara is far too nice for that. The man is far too calmly drawing little Rilakkuma face on Kokichi's latte, hands steady and hot frothy milk pouring with practiced ease, for Saihara to be annoyed with Kokichi's tangents. 

Kokichi's checkered mug full of delicious coffee gets slid in front of him, bear and hearts on the foam coating it. Not a single flaw or spill down any side. 

He laughs, “I only asked for a heart, Saihara-chan.”

“You've been doing hard work each day,” Saihara murmurs. “Ouma-kun absolutely needs a pick me up. And you've mentioned liking that character before.”

Kokichi can't remember that and the whole way that Saihara is lowly speaking, recalling Kokichi talking about things he himself considers meaningless, it's like getting slapped in the face. With vocal call backs to how Kokichi occasionally gets a bit too into self narrating about how amazing Saihara Shuichi's voice is. He does that a lot, uses describing the batista as very private practice in how to write. Kokichi might even go as far as to call Saihara a muse. 

A muse lingering within comfortable wooden aesthetics and the scent of freshly made coffee. 

Kokichi smiles up at Saihara and goes to drink his coffee. It's of course hot, but Kokichi has grown very used to actually hot and relatively natural coffee. 

It's good. Liquid seemingly flows into his chest with a flooding warmth, and settles into his mouth with a taste that Kokichi used to constantly hide, dousing coffee in flavorings and sugar after excessive creamer. There's that usual bitterness but it avoids being overwhelming. The milk does change the coffee, but Kokichi often drinks his coffee black these days. He can taste the almost nutty hints and the calming richness. Unlike some coffee the blend is not so bitter or bold that Kokichi is grimacing. 

To be honest though… 

Kokichi looks back at Saihara and the way he flits between machines in order to check on them. 

Coffee here and anywhere else is something that Kokichi isn't sure how to describe. That's probably a sign of failure to properly coffee snob, though this shop is turning him into one. 

All he knows is that Saihara makes the only coffee that really tastes good to him. 

What a horrible and strong crush. To go from only drinking coffee due to necessities of college, ordering the biggest possible sizes of unrealistically colored fruit flavored iced drinks, to going to a coffee shop each day and drink most cups black; all because of some man that Kokichi barely even knows. 

Except that Kokichi does know him. 

His purple eyes drift back down to his latte and the half devoured bear face within. It tells him to stop being a wimp. The single remaining eyes stares up at Kokichi's face and non-verbally begs for mercy. Rilakkuma can no longer stand to witness this unresolved feelings train. 

Kokichi slurps up the poor foamy bear and exhales through his nose. It really is great coffee. 

“Maybe I should switch to lattes as my main squeeze,” Kokichi absently says. 

A quiet snort reaches Kokichi's ears and makes the man sit up on instinct. Warm golden eyes are gazing at him with something fondness lurking. Moments like this make Kokichi consider the possibility of mutual feelings. Saihara is far to smooth and mature to hold his feelings back though. It would be utterly out of character for the man to also be pining. But the cute bear face and the constant flirting!

Their eyes hold contact and Kokichi can feel the heat of his drink join hands with butterflies waking up in his stomach. 

Fuck you and your insistence to beat this way, he yells at his heart. His heart says fuck you I’m sending blood straight to your face. Cheeks tingling violently and skin most certainly turning red, Kokichi retreats first by obscuring his face with the white-black of his mug. 

And by his mug he means the coffee mug that he bought from the shop. Chess and checkers is aesthetic. Support local shops.

Get to bring the mug in each day and have Saihara fill it up with coffee.

“Well! I’m finished brutally voring Rilakkuma, so I’m gonna head back to my dank and dark lair now,” Kokichi chirps as he carefully steps down from his bar stool.

Saihara pauses in his duties and slumps slightly, jaw snapping shut in a way that immediately draws Kokichi’s eyes to how the man’s hair brushes against pale skin. Not even a moment passes before he realizes that he has prevented Saihara from saying something. Kokichi opens his mouth-

“DID SOMEONE SAY VORE?!” comes a sudden shout from the kitchen. 

Kokichi groans and understands that he’s not in the mood to play banter games with Iruma. Regretting his lack of balls and walking away, the man slinks back to the farthest corner of the Rabbit Beans coffee shop. Various fellow regulars nod their heads and shoot him understanding looks as Kokichi flees. Barely ten seconds were allowed to pass and Kokichi is being forced to retreat straight back to his sleep mode laptop. 

Richly dark hardwoods and bright foliage, vivid greens and flowers that break up shelves full of coffee related apperatusses. Kokichi walks past it all and sinks happily into the soft booth that he claims each day. 

He closes his eyes and takes another sip of his latte.

Then he sets it down on the table. His pale hands fly over to his laptop and turn the sucker back on, putting in his as long as possible password and letting the facial recognition lock do it’s thing, followed by inputting his phone number for good measure. Kokichi adores this little ocean side town and all of the people in it. His landlord is a genuinely great person that make Kokichi feel at home. Strangers are strangers still, and Kokichi has never been the most trusting person. 

Growing up in the dumps of Tokyo tends to do that.

For now though, he’s going to start off with writing more of his stress relief. Kokichi has been doing nothing but work and study since the wee hours of the morning. It’s two in the afternoon right now.

So murder mystery that is basically being co-written with his coffee snob crush it is. Leaving off at a minor moment of sexual tension between the protagonist and the killer, though neither know the identity of the other- The only reason that the protagonist is even investigating the murder is because they go to the same book club as both victim and killer. A very personal interest despite not being close to the elderly woman that the killer chose as their target. How could it not be personal when the murderer is a copycat? One of the serial killer that killed the protagonist’s cop father no less.

Saihara always gets so into helping Kokichi figure out how everything works too…

The barista doesn’t know everything though. There’s no way that Kokichi would just reveal each and every single plot thread or twist. Not until Kokichi has edited over each new part with a fine toothed comb. Purple hair gets twirled around and swished as Kokichi tries to figure out how to word and structure his sentences.

Like so, three hours pass and Kokichi’s mug runs empty of coffee. Half an hour consists of finding photos and pictures that can help him visualize things. The man has gone back and rewritten a few passages with impunity and glaring eyes.

His twist is finally completed though.

Kokichi decides to switch back to school work after a few more minutes of writing and adjusting text. A pale hand automatically brings a monochrome coffee mug to parted lips. A single drop of cold latte slips into Kokichi’s mouth. He blinks and frowns despite the liquid still being good even after cooling for hours.

A feminine hand tan from beach hours slams down on Kokichi’s table, shaking his laptop.

“Hey, shrimpy crabby dick!” grunts the voice of Iruma Miu, granddaughters of the kindly old couple that owns Kokichi’s favorite place. “Just giving ya’ a heads up that your Baehara is getting off of work early. Close your horse-cock futa porn down or get ready to explain that you only look at dick nipple hentai ironically.”

Kokichi stares at the words on his screen and squints up at the woman, “What the hell and where do you even find that shit?”

Pale blue eyes glint with something a bit like annoyance, and Iruma sighs as she slumps into the chair opposite of Kokichi. The man can hear her nails tap-rap against lacquered wood before she sighs yet again.

Unpainted nails shove the lid of Kokichi’s laptop straight down, revealing an expression so serious and solemn that Kokichi is tempted to ask where the real Iruma went. Maybe she got replaced by a slightly less lavacious sea monster. Or maybe Iruma is about to utterly ruin Kokichi’s day and month by kicking him out forever.

“We need to talk about the way that you and my childhood friend are so obviously and obviously, simply put, huge gay disasters for one another. Actually, he’s bi but still,” Iruma says. “Both of you are stupid and huge homosexu-tension-als for one another. And dumb.”

Kokichi’s mug thuds onto the table.

“Did that one guy sneak you weed?” Kokichi asks.

Iruma shrugs and leans back in her chair, “That shit always messes with my inventing powers, so nah.”

Which means that Kokichi is either transparent to the point of people being able to watch him digest food, or he’s entered some surreal alternate reality as imagined by Junji Ito’s brain. His purple eyes drift off to dark colored brick walls and five dried roses hanging from the ceiling. Kokichi often wonders how there manages to not be a single spec of dust. He’s put dried roses mixed among living ones into his novel.

Symbolism about life and death, and also what it’s like to feel alone despite being surrounded by loving and welcoming people full of energy

A pair of fingers snap after invading Kokichi’s vision. 

“What?” Kokichi snaps in return.

Iruma flinches but refuses to wilt into a whining bundle of snot and tears. Her strong core showing makes Kokichi feel a ball of dread grow in his chest, instead of the usual happiness or pride at his friend standing her ground. He knows he’s going to regret going straight into anger voice anyway.

“You know all the machines we use in this place?” Iruma asks.

Confused at the sudden change in topic, Kokichi frowns and nods while his fingers rub at each tiny imperfection of his mug.

“This golden brained genius before you made each and every single contraption that we use. I got up one morning about a month after brain surgery, ran into my grandparents shop, and throttled each and every thing I could find. I dismantled the place. It was like machine gore, and then I looked at my horrified grandmother for around ten seconds before I told her to help me clean everything.”

Iruma inhales slowly as her lips spread into a pleased smile, “And then my fly ass twelve year old self put everything back together in less than three hours. I took those machines, the roasters, the mcfuckin’ oven, and I made them better than anything else on this planet.”

Kokichi stares at her without speaking and full of a distant thought of, what does this have to do with me?

“And I will die before I inherit this place.”

“Wait, what the fuck? Hold the hell up you huge cum addict-” Kokichi wheezes. He ignores Iruma’s quiet moan and tries to figure out how words work. “What exactly does anything about that story have to do with me and Saihara-chan?”

Shuddering and smiling to herself about being talked down to in public, Iruma breathlessly tells Kokichi that her family initially thought that she or her twin sister would marry Saihara. But then her sister got to into piano and this one otaku chick that they gave up. And Iruma herself dated Saihara for about two weeks when they were fourteen. It ended in the two of them going up to Iruma’s parents and telling them to just stop expecting their daughter to give on on her real lover, Inventing.

“They took it pretty well. I’m like… 99% certain that they just wanted an excuse to somehow get Shuuitchy on the family register. He’s always been like a third child to ‘em,” Iruma says.

“Oh my God, golly gee willikers, please get to the fucking point before I die?” is Kokichi’s sarcastic plead. He gobbles up and files away the tidbits about family and Shuichi’s likes though. 

That’s just common sense.

“So you and my basically brother are in love with one another. And this coffee shop isn’t going to me or my sister. Thus,” Iruma grits out. “If you get with him then this generations old coffee shop is yours if you want it.”

Is this-

“Anyway, Saihara is in love with you. He wouldn’t spend hours and hours forcing himself to learn insanely complex latte art unless he had it bad. Do you know how many reject cups I’ve dra-”

“Are you trying to give me a... fucking dowery?” Kokichi whispers his question, eyes wide and full of abject horror.

Iruma raises an eyebrow and asks if its working.

Then the woman and all her inventing obsessed glory gets up, cut to thigh length jeans empathizing Iruma’s strong legs, one blue eye winking as Iruma grins at Kokichi’s dropped mouth. She yanks his laptop’s screen back up in a way that makes Kokichi fear for his life. Toned legs and muscular arms sway as the inventor sashays back to the front of the shop, one of her hands slapping the ass of her ’favorite customer’. Said white haired man squeals and spills his coffee.

Kokichi will never understand how Iruma Miu and Idabayashi Kiibo got together. That’s been a reoccurring thought ever since the man has known them both.

Empty white mug stares up at Kokichi when he glances down.

Five at night and Kokichi is about to go get a refill of coffee while begging his mouth not to fucking out him as a huge idiot. Even if he does ask the other man out on a date, where the hell would Kokichi ask Saihara out to? The guy has lived here most of his life and probably knows each restaurant or cool little park.

Dyed purple tips aside, Kokichi is barely anything approaching cool. He got into college after years of tired grinding and forcing himself to ace each possible anything. 

Chess club trophies might as well be a family member. 

The last time he actually had friends was in early middle school.

How fucking exactly does Iruma think he’ll manage to confess his feelings to Saihara, let alone stay with the man in a long term relationship? Saihara is older than him, Saihara is obviously better at social interaction, Saihara actually has friends and people that want to date him.

Kokichi is just a tiny asshole that has dreams of being a best selling author that specializes in well written psychological horror hints of that whole Lovecraftian thing.

He reads Junji Ito for the humor during insomniac episodes.

“Ouma-kun?” 

Saihara’s voice breaks Kokichi out of his fugue and brings him back into reality.

“Heyo!” Kokichi nervously says. His eyes dart down to the bar and his usual stool. Somehow, his anxious body has brought him up to get that refill after all. “Mind giving me one more cup before you get off? Saihara-chan was obviously going to come ask me about our brain-child’s progress anyway. Sooo?”

Blinking and smiling slightly, Saihara’s body swerves to get Kokichi’s usual ‘late night’ blend and a pour over. He grinds the beans right in front of Kokichi’s intent gaze. It doesn’t take long and Kokichi doubts that he’d be bored even if he had to wait hours.

Kokichi sits in his stool and watches Shuichi slowly pour water into freshly ground coffee grinds.

To think that Iruma believes Kokichi capable of inheriting her family’s coffee shop. He knows nothing about coffee. Kokichi drinks in the sound of Shuichi explaining coffee trivia and science/art by hearing only the sound of the barista’s voice and comprehending none of the actual information.

“There aren’t many people around right now, if you wanted to talk right away?” Shuichi murmurs.

Delicate yet manly hands continue to carefully pour water into fine coffee grinds. Kokichi can barely even tell if they’re moving counterclockwise or just plain clockwise. He leans back and stretches with his arms sticking up in the air, a high pitched yawn filling the air as purple eyes squeeze shut.

Opening and rubbing away sleepy time dampness reveals a fresh cup of black coffee, and Saihara watching him.

Lips quirking and gold eyes lowering, “I didn’t know that kittens like coffee.”

Jesus God. Damn, how does he do this illegal action-

“Saihara-chan’s brewing skills have me addicted!” Kokichi blurts out in a way he hopes sounds less stupid nineteenish year old and more casual joking. He grabs his refilled mug and gulps down the contents. It takes a bit more bitter than usual.

“The novel though, I’ve finally revealed my big twist about the protagonist.” Kokichi says. “I’m pretty sure that a great detective like you has always considered it though.”

Taking off his apron and walking around the counter until he reaches the stools, Saihara plants his nice butt in the on right next to Kokichi’s own, staring at the smaller man with interest. The barista relaxes and watches Kokichi take a sudden sip of his coffee.

After a few moments, “Tell me more.”

Their eyes meet once again and the same feeling of ‘only we exist’ washes over Kokichi's body. Maybe Iruma is right after all. Maybe Saihara Shuichi in white button down shirt wearing beauty actually returns Kokichi's feelings. Maybe the way he's leaning over the counter and resting his chin in his hand, not once looking away from Kokichi's face, does in fact suggest romantic aspirations. 

If so, then they've spent a long time dating already. 

Kokichi smirks and crosses his legs, “First thing is that I've basically decided to forgo picking a gender or anything like for the protag. Neither pronoun was working, so I spent ten minutes turning all the replaceable capital theys into regular they.”

Another bright smile and Saihara doesn't blink at the idea. His eyes just get that almost dorkish look that shows up whenever they talk about murder mysteries after a while. Boyish interest. 

Like Shuichi would ever actually be a nerd though.

“I don't think I've read a mystery novel with a character like that, let alone the protagonist,” Saihara says after a few moments of reflection. 

“Yeah, I figured that I might as well try it out. Spending months trying to minimize using gendered stuff or describing the main character like that has been a fun learning experience too,” he says as he swishes his coffee around. “But that's not the important part!“

Kokichi's smirk evolves into something more sinister. His eyes contort into little half moons that took days of practice to master back in middle school. 

“Saihara-chan helped me figure out how the killer gets revealed to the protagonist.”

Saihara’s own eyes seem to dilate slightly. 

Quiet but intense, Kokichi murmurs a series of questions, “Remember last week when we talked about the pink haired girl in the same book club as the protagonist? How I clamped up when you noticed the segment where the protagonist mentions her contacts? How cagey I got the time we talked about the psychology behind people who get convinced that others are their lovers?”

Purple eyes glint with dastardly intent as their owner's lips continue to widen, forming the same grin that scares people away. For Saihara though, no. 

The batista's breath hitches and golden eyes seem to perfectly portray the man's churning mind.  
Even Saihara’s body starts tensing up, pale fingers digging into cheeks as his mouth parts slightly. He looks absolutely enraptured and genuinely worried for Kokichi's half-baked characters. There's a kind of growing dismay despite it all being fictional. 

He really is a great person. 

“You were right in that Pinky’s contacts had never been mentioned before. You were right to be suspicious of the way that the killer reacted to hearing about them too…” Kokichi whispers. 

Other regulars are aware of how Kokichi is writing a novel about murders, but he doesn't really want to disturb the cute tourist couple at the other end of the counter. That would be really rude to do. Also, Kokichi's landlord is drinking a coffee behind him. Sinister whispers and nightmare faces it is. 

Saihara is so close too… gah! 

Focus yourself and wow him properly, Kokichi reminds himself. 

He giggles. 

“Both the killer and the protagonist are stalking the same person.”


	2. Blend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi is the least smooth and least confident person he knows. He's also not that great in general.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heewwwo wwhow wis thish?

“A- a stalker?” Shuichi says, unable to help but blurt out his words.

Kokichi leers up at him in secretive glee. The man must have no idea as to what is running through Shuichi's mind. But something about Shuichi's voice must trump the writer's need for dramatics, because he quickly pulls back from the miniscule space between them. It makes Shuichi's guts clench together and scream. 

“Yup! Our darling protagonist started out suspecting her of being the killer, but now Pinkie has an admirer…” Kokichi says nonchalantly. “As for the killer-”

He reaches over and grabs his coffee, the coffee that Shuichi always makes for him, and takes a delicate sip. 

Shuichi is aware that the first stage of his life has been a constant exercise in how to not socialize or get attached. Each day since moving to this town, he's thankful that his luck landed him in the same homeroom as his best friends. The man gets why people are put off when he talks about murder or other morbid things. And Shuichi is better about it now. 

And Shuichi is desperately trying to find the carefully constructed lockbox that he mentally throws his rambling words into. He can't find it. 

There is no calming organizer for the batista to slowly pull passable sentences out of. 

Kokichi continues, “The killer accidentally broke into her apartment while trying to invade the home of his first victim.” 

Prickly warnings of sweat start to rush down Shuichi's spine as he hears Kokichi's voice. Trying to keep up with the man is painful right now. It's like Shuichi is drowning and just all around dying. Can't think, can't talk, just-

“So I'm thinking that a possible meeting would be in an alley near Pinky’s place, but I'm not sure how to feel about doing a stand off?” Kokichi ponders into that familiar mug. 

Licking his lips and swallowing, “Do you…”

Kokichi's bright purple eyes, that may or may not seem to change hue everyday, swerve over to look straight into Shuichi's. It's a calming thing that helps Shuichi breath. 

They look more lavender right now. 

Ah, Kokichi is talking. 

“Are you okay, Saihara-chan?” he asks softly. His eyebrows and mouth are both pulling into more pinched positions. Legs shifting slightly and upper body becoming less ‘relaxed against chair’ and more ‘only paying attention to you’. 

It took only a week for Kokichi to start using chan like that. Shuichi had paused and pretended to be checking the beans. Then he turned around and smiled, asking what he'd done to earn such a thing. A heart warming smile full of secretive intent had been Shuichi's only reply. Falling for Ouma Kokichi was a forgone conclusion after the batista saw that. 

Shuichi has it bad. Badly. 

“No. No, it's not really anything at all,” Shuichi smiles shakily. “It's just that back then I'd gotten worried about- about why you suddenly stopped talking.”

Kokichi blinks and says, “I didn't want to spoil it early. Wait, did you think it was because I've been stalked before?”

Always straight the point as the worst times, but Shuichi normally likes that. Not in a joking way either. Kokichi seems to know exactly when to be blunt and exactly when to make a verbal dance of things. He's amazing. He's wonderful. There's a particular smile that Kokichi makes when he's finished writing, all lopsided and faintly vicious. But the way his shoulders happily slump after hours of studying and class work. Or when Kokichi's face lights up if Shuichi surprises him with a free refill. 

Everything about Kokichi is utterly lively and lovely. The man is patient enough to not once actually rush Shuichi's responses. A response that Shuichi cannot find at the moment. 

Shuichi shifts in his seat and tries to ignore the weight of his cell phone. 

Bad. 

In what way is Shuichi supposed to frame his words and feelings right now? Should it be started as ‘yes, but also-’ or no, fuck, if Shuichi accidentally tells the truth then he is utterly dead and screwed forever. The whole thing having started accidentally is barely an excuse. Not even a good one either. 

“I figured that you might have known someone?” Shuichi murmurs. 

His eyes trail over to the airtight jars of beans behind the counter. The tips of his fingers itch to be rubbing over the familiar lids, or the well learned bumps along the otherwise smooth glass. Kokichi tends to tolerate even the worst of Shuichi's speaking. But-

Kokichi laughs. 

It's a bright and welcoming laugh. One could call it a giggle, like earlier. The sound makes Shuichi's heart swell up. 

And drop with something horribly heavy. 

“Oh no! I've never had something like that happen to me at all. Like, I've known of it but it's not a personal thing,” Kokichi says. “Don't tell anyone else about my inexperience with irl creepy stuff! Sad but not a lie. ”

Shuichi stares at Kokichi. He watches the way his jaw moves, the flutter of his eyelashes, and takes in each twitch of shoulder and movement of pupil. The detective in training considers their conversation and past conversations, among other things. Golden eyes blink as their owner smiles a bit more confidently. Tensed and numbing knuckles relax as Shuichi lets relief flow through him. 

The man before him truly isn't lying. 

They talk about Kokichi's novel and how it's halfway done, until it really is far too late and Shuichi may as well head back and help close up. 

The way that Kokichi waves goodbye two times before he actually disappears from Shuichi's sight is adorable. First when leaving the shop and second before he actually goes into his apartment building. 

Almost every night ends like that, or so it seems. 

Shuichi is obsessively wiping down a table when Miu grabs his well ironed shirt and drags him back into the kitchen. He squeaks loudly enough for his former middle school mathematics teacher to jerk violently and rip her newspaper in two. Miu doesn't even let an apology spew itself out of Shuichi's mouth. She just tosses him into roaster and scowls. 

“I swear to all that is just barely pure about my sister, if you two didn't agree to fuck!” she hisses. “Then I will lock you both in the stinky bean closet!”

Busy rubbing his soon to bruise lower back, Shuichi just quietly grimaces at the threat. The stinky bean closet doesn't even exist anymore. Yet, Shuichi knows that Miu will gladly spend a week letting horrifically burnt coffee beans marinate in a closet just to weakly recreate it. 

“L-look I just wanted to talk to Ko-” Shuichi tries to breathe.

Miu slowly goes from arms on hips to finger lightly tugging hair. That's good. 

He tries again, “I just wanted to talk to Ouma-kun tonight. I've definitely given thought about what you said, and I think he might have too… but I just kept remembering my phone.”

Miu groans and slumps backwards, thumping into the brick wall and rolling her eyes back as frustrated wheeze-screech echoes. Her gloved hands rub at her face as the woman grumbles. Then blue eyes snap past clawing fingers and Miu darts forward. Her years of track make it impossible to avoid her. 

Shuichi makes a grand attempt to prevent Miu and her grabby hands from snatching the phone from his back pants pocket. He really does. 

But the whole struggle is over in less than half a minute tops. 

Childhood best friend and genius inventor, Miu makes everything by basically scratch. She forges, she thinkers, she lifts heavy objects around just for kicks. Even someone that regularly trains in order to catch criminals can't win against the Iruma family’s granddaughter. That and Shuichi has already had the contents of his phone exposed to her. 

A picture of Kokichi rubbing sleep sand from his left eye is shoved into Shuichi's aghast face. Steam from a first cup of coffee wafts to frame his angelic face.

“No. FUCKING. Shit my dude?!” Miu yells.

Miu switches to a picture of Kokichi leaning down and investigating a cinnamon roll, silky hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail. His soft looking lips are slightly pulled into a hungry pout. 

Shuichi tries to say something in his defense. But Miu is the one that does most defending. 

There's not much that the batista can do or say to defend his actions, and not once does he ever mean it. He is more than aware that these pictures are wrong. He doesn't think that Kokichi is his lover or anything like that. Shuichi isn't delusional. Kokichi's chosen protagonist and chosen killer are nothing like him. Cases involving stalkers and various other forms of romantic entitlement are ones that Shuichi has helped with before. The man knows. 

Images of an unaware and thus totally unself-contained Ouma Kokichi keep getting waved in front of Shuichi's regret filled eyes. 

“I know! I know-” Shuichi grits out. 

Miu pauses in her onslaught and considers the way his shoulders are starting to shake. She frowns and sneers lopsidedly, eyes narrowed and a twinge of her own shame evident. The woman avoids Shuichi's gaze for a moment. 

She sighs, “If he didn't live across the street from this place, you'd probably be following him home by now.”

“That… I'm sorry,” the man mumbles. “I just kept seeing him around town-”

“But couldn't make yourself actually approach him. Oh lil’bro, I know and I get it.”

Shuichi slides down into a crouch and tries to hide his shame filled flush, groaning into his hands and wishing he could just spontaneously combust, “I saw Ouma-kun buy a little mascot bear and binge read all about it online. And then I stayed up all night learning how to make latte art of it. Except, I wasn't even sure he liked Rilakkuma until I dived into a few of his social media a-accounts and found a post from two years ago.”

An ugly hitched hyena noise escapes from his best friend's throat. 

“Just- I just wanted to actually go up and say something instead of awkwardly try to make my mouth work and now I'm stalking him i-” Shuichi gasps out as his shoulders start to shake. “Why didn't I just sign up for Dangan Ronpa last year?”

Clacking heels rush over and Miu's tanned hands start to unfurl Shuichi from himself. It just makes him feel worse, that his bumbling mouth has made Miu even more worried about him. Of course the woman would react badly to hearing Shuichi mention that killing game show. Her not coming over to hold him would be implausible at best. 

“Because that bullshit dying crap sucks and I'm glad they went bankrupt,” Miu says into his hair. 

Shaking his head, Shuichi tries to let Miu and her mothering nature calm him down. Tan limbs cradle him gently. It's the same kind of safety blanket sensation that the Iruma family would treat Shuichi to during his childhood. When he moved away, when he moved back, and after his aunt died. 

The same kind of hug that Miu's grandmother had given him after that one case. Memories of it still make the man shiver. Considering the hat that Shuichi wears near compulsively when outside…

Kokichi either not noticing or being unable to recognize Shuichi is a no brainer.

“I can't believe I'm having a breakdown from being someone's stalker,” Shuichi sniffles. His bitterness is evident just from the words, but the detective trainee is sure that his tone makes Miu frown.

Her shoulder digs into Shuichi's own. 

“Don't beat yourself up about it. You're a big awkward bean, but it started all by accident!” Miu consuls him. “Allllso, I've been enabling your big juicy booty.”

Laughing despite himself isn't an unfamiliar thing for Shuichi to do. Not around Miu. 

He peeks over at the woman and sees her fiddling with his phone. It's almost time for tonight's podcast, but Shuichi doesn't quite feel like talking about coffee tonight. The podcast would just end up being about Kokichi. Which is actually a rather welcome addition to the last podcast, if time he actually ended up doing that is a sign. Everyone seems to enjoy Soft Morbid time and Saishuu Crush time. Coffee snobs: true consumers of gross crime stories and how to love other worldly horror writers. Some of the nicest and most uplifting people that Shuichi has ranted to. 

Kokichi has fans online and not a single book out. Just another thing that Shuichi can't tell him. 

“I did soundproof th-that room. I suppose…”

Miu grins in satisfaction, “You totally did make your very own sex dungeon. I fucking respect that so hard.”

“Also I deleted all of your creepshots.”

Shuichi’s hands spasm towards his phone for a moment. Then he stills, and realizes that he's absolutely okay with that. Deleting them has been something that he's been wanting to do. Entire folder selected and fingers about to press confirm at two am. Best friend doing it first is just a bit too cheaty. A type of freebie that makes Shuichi upset in a way. 

Perfectly cared for nails tap into Shuichi's cheeks and a phone slips into his lap. 

Grabbing the cellular device and opening it with a single swipe reveals that Shuichi's background is still Kokichi's mug full with an older latte. The art being a Swan, Kokichi's petite body behind. Kokichi had all but demanded that both of them take photographic proof of the latte.

Flicking into the gallery reveals that Miu lied though. Shuichi's folder full of folders that eventually leads to Kokichi upon Kokichi is still intact. 

“So, about-”

Shuichi selects the entire folder and deletes them all. 

Eyes darting over to Miu and her disbelief, he smiles. It's fine. Shuichi doesn't need… he doesn't need pictures that constantly remind him about how stupid and selfishly hypocritical he is. All they do is fill him up with tiny bits of fondness and then rest on his shoulders, whispering that it's not wonder Shuichi can't actually talk to people, no wonder he's taking at least ten seconds to respond to the person whose privacy he's violating. The smiling man being treated like a target. 

“I'll ask him out tomorrow. I'll ask him out to that place by the pier and buy him those two tone roses we talked about too because they suit him,” Shuichi says far too quickly. “And also I guess I should. Should.”

Miu's hand and the scent of herbal hand lotion cover the man's rambling mouth. Blue eyes stare into Shuichi's soul. 

Deadpan voice and eyes unamused, “Do not tell the little gremlin. Anything.”

Wide eyes blink as the obvious is stated. A single eyebrow is raised and mimicked. Surely the inventor doesn't think that Shuichi would slip up around Kokichi and confess to stalking him? Even if it wasn't exactly how people would normally see stalking. There's no way! 

Actually, Shuichi can see himself revealing the whole ‘I kept seeing you around town and tried to approach you but that was a month ago and now I take picture of you instead’ situation. Not other things though, Shuichi is still a good liar and actor.

Kokichi will always think that Shuichi specializes in infidelity and runaways.

Cringing as they pick themselves up, and trying to half heartedly avoid Miu dusting him off with aggression, Shuichi offers to help close up further. His offer turns into his tired body being sat down at a table. A cup of coffee is gingerly placed down in front of him. Hawaiian Kona. The kind of coffee that most reminds Shuichi of Kokichi. It's become his favorite in how just the aroma brings his crush to mind. 

He drinks it like a man forced to go cold turkey for three days. 

Eventually, the coffee and Shuichi's worst pangs of anxiety manage to both vanish. 

But as they go comes another person, tiny footsteps and cane marking the arrival of Miu's grandmother. The elderly French woman takes one look at Shuichi's still blotchy face and squints at him. 

The conversation that ensues is as reassuring as it is embarrassing. Shuichi tends to dislike it when the old woman that basically adopted him talks about… When Iruma Maria talks about his uncle and the cases that Shuichi used to do. About how he shouldn't have been allowed to do them. She's right though, he knows that now and so does his uncle. It's impossible not to admit after Shuichi became incapable of taking off his hat, after the then boy started having panic attacks from being looked at. Shuichi could have been a real detective years and years ago. 

He practically was. 

Instead of being a detective, Shuichi is holding himself back by doing things normally. He's focusing on healing. He's going to college and making people happy. Falling in love with someone that makes him want to be looked at, makes him want to talk. 

Rabbit Beans Coffee Shop: one of the only places where former child prodigy detective Saihara Shuichi can take his hat off. 

So, when Granny Iruma tells him that he's family, Shuichi listens. 

Although, getting approval to date Kokichi makes the detective feel like he's had wine instead of coffee. 

He goes home and waves to multiple that know not to actually go up to talk, smiles under his hat. Unlocking his front door and shrugging himself inside takes forever and not long enough. Shuichi stares down at his slippers and wavers in guilt. All those photos really got deleted. The detective really actually erased them all, each picture of Kokichi just casually playing with his hair, and then he even got rid of the backups on the way home. 

At least the ones on the man's phone. 

The computer, though.

Shuichi stumbles into his makeshift recording/computing room and stares down at the device. He saved up for a year and then Miu dragged him over to her house. They made it together, all futuristically slick and thin, glowing bits and silent fans. It's still the most powerful PC that Shuichi knows of. 

It has all of Shuichi's pictures and more in it. 

Of course, there are the case files and school work. But the things that are making Shuichi heart thump- pulse roaring as he sits down-

The saved pictures that Shuichi needs to delete are nothing compared to other worse things. Stalking Kokichi over social media accounts is fucking normal when compared. 

Pale fingers pull out the rolling chair and Shuichi exhales slowly. He's just going to delete it all and move on. He'll rehearse what he'll say to Kokichi. Confess that Kokichi is the only person that he's like this way in years and years. Admit that Shuichi has no where near the confidence nor the smooth tongued nature that Kokichi might think he does. It's going to harder if Shuichi doesn't get to performing an exorcism on his hard drive. 

Mostly because of the writing snippets that evolved from editing practice to porn. 

Shuichi cringes just from putting a label on it. He hasn't actually written since his days in the Dangan Ronpa fandom. Not since before that last murder case. Back when he took utter delight in solving any kind of mystery, and found the ‘game’ of murder to be the most interesting of them all. He would flagrantly ignore his own discomfort and negative feelings in order to gain affection and recognition. He would write to vent his barely contained disgust and loathing. Then he would go back to smiling as his eyes raced down the grisly autopsy reports of a dismembered pregnant woman. 

He wasn't even sixteen years old yet, when Shuichi solved that first homicide. It was a rush to have so many people look at him and call him a genius. To praise him for taking the lead and exposing a vicious murderer. 

Ultimate, they called him. 

As if Shuichi could possibly deserve being called that. Even back then when Shuichi would grin and happily make people squirm, all to fill the affection starved pit in his chest, he didn't really believe that being a real life Ultimate Detective was him. What mattered at the time was how Shuichi's often distance uncle, a quiet but loving man with a loving wife, would start to pay so much attention to his nephew. 

Lot of good that's led up to, Shuichi thinks.

It's a bitter thought. A bitter thought that sours into the way his uncle drank himself into a stupor after Shuichi's aunt was murdered. One that dries into the scent of wine in a scratchy beard, and tears as only half there arms wrap around a much paler and much smaller Shuichi's limp body.

Fourteen year olds can't do much against escaped killers that want revenge by kidnapping them.

Just shiver and tremble as tales of innocence spill out of a haggard man waving a knife around. Just get forced to maintain eye contact, until the man that killed one of your mother figures walks off crying for his own, and escape. Shuichi isn't sure how he got away back then. Maybe the man wanted to get caught. Maybe he stalled for so long by showing off those pictures-

Smiling aunt fishing even as the sun goes down, uncle trying to balance three ice cream cones as a fish wiggles on its hook. Shuichi himself in the forefront, hat in his right hand and a bug net on his left. 

It's wrong. It's a horrible and bad thing to do. 

God awful and yet, Shuichi did it anyway. He took his fantasies and wet dreams farther too. Too far to justify as being socially awkward while pining. Far worse than some dream you can help for have. 

Kokichi would be disgusted. Miu has absolutely no idea. 

That's good. That's great. That is amazing, so why is Shuichi hesitant to finally burning all these words into digital trash? Why is he just reading about a fantasy where Kokichi snuggles up to him in the back of Rabbit? Why did he think it was okay to write about Kokichi sucking him off under a table during lunch break? 

A short thing where Kokichi gets caught writing smut of his characters. Shuichi acts upset that Kokichi would do that for… for a barely coherent reason. 

God, the 10k+ words document of Kokichi getting gang banged. That was from just last week. 

Shuichi shivers and exits out of the ‘fic’ folder. He selects all of his pictures and deletes them with closed eyes. Those fics can be deleted in the morning, after some sleep and before running off to work. 

Gold eyes flicker over at the small smattering of candid photographs pinned to the wall behind the main recording setup. 

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wits pregame fwusin


	3. Roast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi gets ready for a date. He wears mostly white, except for black pinstripe shoes. Now he just has to avoid the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter killed me.

Kokichi watches as a small orange cat with white splotches rubs itself against his ankles. The kitten weaves in between his legs, mewling needily, and Kokichi is still just waiting around instead of petting the cute furball. Maybe the little darling thinks that the man's pure white clothing is white fur. Not that such a theory checks out. The shorts and short sleeves expose quite a bit of pale skin, but Kokichi isn't that pale. 

Seagulls make their annoying yet iconic calls as they circle the pier. It’s making the sound of ocean waves and the scent of salty brine all the stronger. Refreshing. 

Even the pedestrian only road that Kokichi is waiting in is scenic. 

The pier of Kokichi’s new town isn’t the most massive thing. He’s seen bigger before, and possibly gone to bigger seafood markets too. But the people here are different than in the city of Tokyo and it’s labyrinths of train stops. Each smile or wave is paired with a little greeting as people go about their business.

Fishermen walking around and fishermen sitting down at a ledge to cast lines, prices being haggled, all at a fast yet leisurely pace. There are even women drying out wakame. 

A single meow is all the warning that the college student gets before the white-orange kitten runs off into the direction of a ringing bell.

Kokichi smiles and checks the time on his phone again.

He still doesn’t travel down here too often.

It’s not that he dislikes it or that there’s a bad smell. As with the rest of the town, the fish is fresh and downright amazing looking. Kokichi just doesn’t hang out at the port areas and tends to buy his fish at a grocery store nearer to where he lives. Still, people watching and taking in the ‘scene’ is already giving him a bunch of writing inspiration for a whole slew of things. It’s almost a shame that Kokichi has fully figured out the ending to his short novel.

Speaking of, he spends most of his days on his laptop at the coffee shop. Not much time to go wandering down to the docks and do any partaking of local dock activities. He hasn’t even taken the ferry anywhere! Rabbit Beans and it’s handsome barista have stolen Kokichi’s attention.

Which all brings Kokichi to his current… issue.

Not ever a problem.

Either way he slices it, though, Kokichi is on edge about the whole thing.

Saihara has asked him out on a date to a restaurant near the piers. Just this morning after making Kokichi’s coffee with a silence different from the usual. Strange to think about it all. Threeish months of nearly routine ‘is this flirting is this not’ with a guy around five years older than you, followed by the man’s best friend offering you his hand in marriage, and suddenly your crush asks you out. Confessions galore and deep red faces full of relief. 

Sunlight warms the skin of his face. A light and salty breeze ruffles Kokichi’s white jacket and a cricket jumps onto his black-grey pinstripe vans. 

It has been maybe fifteen minutes since Saihara arrived and started hiding behind the corner of a house. The hat makes it exceedingly obvious that it’s Saihara too, though Kokichi has never gotten to see the man wear it near the coffee shop. Outside, the barista never seems to take the thing off.

Even if Saihara is dressed casually, a blue t-shirt under a comfy looking tan cardigan, Kokichi would recognize the man a mile away. His hiding can't hide the white and black chessboard pattern of his shoes either. The contrast betrays him. Funny how the detect seems to think that the shine of his watch could go unnoticed. 

Cute in a way. But Kokichi wishes that the other man would just be a bit more honest.

Being shy about approaching someone is basically normal, right? Even though Saihara is the person that finally made that first move. Even though Saihara went as far as pulling Kokichi aside to explain that he’s not actually smooth or confident at all-

Does the detective really think that Kokichi is in any position to judge someone for this sort of thing? He writes about literal bloody murder and the killer having sexual tension with the protagonist, who is basically an awful person, that only tries to catch said bad guy for a petty personal reason buried under layers of justifications. So Saihara is shy in public and Kokichi is insanely awkward at all times. A inadvertent creep and an inadvertent asshole. Clearly the best ship. 

Or maybe Saihara has just been trying to chicken out. Iruma being lying, or they could both be.

It could all be a sick joke.

One that Kokichi actually got dressed up for. 

Gritting his teeth and shaking the cricket off of his foot, Kokichi picks his bag up and walks away from the spot he was standing in. His feet take him away from where Saihara is no doubt floundering.

A smile made of plastic and years of pretending to be fine smacks itself onto the man’s face.

He smiles at a neighbor he can’t remember the name of and circles around the house. Footsteps perfectly quiet from years of practice. Kokichi’s breathing is just as masterfully silent. Both are a well earned and hard learned bit of instinct from when the aspiring writer was young. Though the steps and pavement of this coastal town can be extremely crumbly, Kokichi has had to sneak in far worse environments.

Sneaking up behind a slumped over Saihara is ironically easy. The man is too busy grinding his forehead into a wall to even try paying attention. It’s disturbing his hat and hair.

“Ssssaaaai-Haaara-Channnnn?!” Kokichi yells.

The slight echo of his voice mingles with the cries of seagulls and harking of fish sellers. 

Jolting up is Saihara’s immediate response to the sound of Kokichi and his sudden presence ‘suddenly’ being in the same alleyway as him. Wide gold eyes seem to brighten up the little back street and it’s confined spaces.

Kokichi can probably use this scene in his writing, which is nice.

He grins, “Wow... I can’t believe that we almost just missed one another~! Good thing I decided to look into this secluded passage here!” 

Saihara stares and his jaw slowly starts to drop. Mouth open, Kokichi can see his throat try to force out something at least slightly similar to words, but the barista stays speechless for at least a while long. He looks even paler than Kokichi as he sighs into a shaking hand. Eyes squeezing shut and lips wobbling in a way that makes Kokichi feel bad for not saying something else. More sympathetic or with a more empathetic tone. After having just walked up normally.

Pretending to only just notice Saihara and then walking over directly. That would have been a far better approach. God damn it, Kokichi is still so horrible at behaving like a normal person.

Damn it! 

The psychology student starts skipping his way over and pulling Saihara out into sunshine before the man can even try to speak again. Clammy hands mix temperatures together in a way that gives Kokichi chills. Saihara’s fingers twitch slightly, always so steady and careful during work, and Kokichi entwines them with barely a thought. Sunlight again warms the writer's face. 

“You said that the place you wanted to take me was close to here, right?” Kokichi asks without looking back. 

A bench should be nearby, if Saihara needs to sit down. 

Choked words begin reaching Kokichi's ears, “Why are-”

Kokichi breaks from his initial plan and turns back to look at Saihara. The bill of that black hat obscures the large majority of its owner's face. In this situation and moment, Kokichi doesn't find the hat cute at all. He finds it to be nothing more than an annoying pest. A strong desire to rip it off and burn it builds up inside of the man's chest. Such things and actions are best suited for fiction, however. 

Real life is a tricky concept, sometimes. 

Smiling softly and rubbing his fingers into Saihara’ trembling hands, Kokichi speaks, “Let's go on a date together. If you're more comfortable with it, we can go back to the shop.”

Saihara closes his mouth with a click. His eyes prove a blind spot since they can't be seen at the moment. But Kokichi has been absolutely swooning over the man for month now. He can practically sense how the barista must be letting his eyes close, aided in how Saihara just barely sags in relief. 

Wavering fingers grow still before they return Kokichi's offered embrace. 

They start walk down the tiny road again, the mild slope making Kokichi's footsteps feel strange, and Saihara soon finds himself taking the lead as they travel to their destination. 

People pause and stare at them as they pass. Though, it seems to be far more about Saihara being involved than anything else. Kokichi spots a few familiar faces sighing happily or smiling in surprise. He can admit that Saihara being this way and being known for it is shocking. It's odd to realize that the barista hasn't lied about the way he is off work. That Saihara and the way he shakily asked Kokichi out, while acting as if in a confessional, is also truly Saihara. 

Kokichi has had an illusion shattered. It's not so bad as to be even slightly disappointing. 

At the same time… 

Kokichi has had something much better confirmed. 

The coffee shop Saihara he loves and the hat wearing Saihara trying his best to hold hands with him; is the same Saihara Shuichi that Kokichi has thought about kissing. He's the same. The scent of coffee that makes Kokichi feel at home is the same. The strong hand tightly integrated with Kokichi's own, it is the same as the one that tucks sea-black hair behind Saihara’s ears. 

Saihara, who smiles and thinks out each response while making drinks just for Kokichi.

Walking into a small ‘universal noodle’ shop that boasts right off the boat seafood, Kokichi's entire body is buzzing with excitement. He's on a date with the most attractive man he's ever seen. The most interesting, fascinating, kindest and most understanding person that Kokichi has ever met. A man that, apparently and from his own admissions, can't bear the idea of making Kokichi think that he's stupid or slow. So instead of risking that, Saihara puts in absurd effort just to make basic conversation. Spends time trying to figure out exactly what to say. 

A small paper menu is placed on their table by a waitress who asks Saihara how school is going. Kokichi gets introduced to her slowly, but he's more focused on how Saihara nervously takes his hat off. 

Kokichi does secure a promise of stories from his date's youth though. Huge score. 

He's the least boring thing that has ever happened to me, Kokichi finally knows for certain. 

That's-

“I'll have the seafood ramen,” Kokichi orders. “Please.”

The middle aged waitress nods and smiles, gently reaching over to ruffle Saihara’s hair before she leaves. Saihara flushes brightly and glances his water to Kokichi's fond grin. He's perfect. The man is beautiful and intelligent. So very much stronger than he knows. Perfect inspiration for Kokichi's novel and the best motivation for getting his degree. 

And he's in love with Kokichi too. 

Before Saihara, Kokichi wasn't sure if just a new environment was going to cut it. Now he's got the biggest and most heartwarmingly entertaining bundle of contrast in human form, the best muse that Kokichi has ever seen. Even of he doesn't seem to realize that parts of him are the foundation for most of Kokichi's characters. Not to mention the plot, and just how amazing all his criminology knowledge is. Somedays, the main thing that helps Kokichi leave his bed is the desire to see Saihara. 

How beautiful it is to learn that Saihara has tried so hard for Kokichi. How almost disgustingly good it feels to choke over a confession paired with fresh coffee and a free donut. The tingling still echoes down Kokichi's spine. Eyes still itchy from chemicals rushing out of his brain and demanding tears, despite zero sadness. 

Nervous gold eyes stare at where Kokichi's elbow is on the table. 

Kokichi tries to get his mouth under control and clears his throat. He waits for Saihara to look at him just a bit more. Gold eyes with flecks of gun metal grey lurking around. The lighting being different is already revealing new colors. 

“So… does my beloved Saihara-chan come here often?” Kokichi says. It's a stupid question with an obvious answer. Kokichi can faintly recall spotting a few pictures of Shuichi at a corkboard near the entrance to the establishment. One such picture being of a younger Saihara with two adult couples, one likely his parents and the other his uncle with his wife. 

Saihara still smiles, a fragile and so full of shame, oblivious to the fact that Kokichi couldn't care less about the source of the detective's anxiety. Unaware that the other man only cares in the best way possible. 

“I do.” 

Hearing that lowered tone from Saihara’ lips when his voice is already soft and breathy, it makes Kokichi's skin price and his mind go fuzzy. Especially with those words. Gosh, what wouldn't Kokichi do to hear Saihara say that more often? 

Kokichi takes a sip of ice water and smirks teasingly, “Did you take me here because it's special, not just the food?”

Saihara opens his mouth and rasps out a tiny yes.

The detective brings his hands together and slowly fiddles his thumbs together. His murmured admission makes Kokichi's stomach butterflies act up. Saihara points over at a small plaque nailed above the bar. Kokichi has glanced at it before. The restaurant is fairly small and homey but- Kokichi stares up at the small metal dedication and feels a part of himself float away into understanding. So that's how it is. Maybe that's part of why Saihara couldn't bring himself to approach Kokichi right away too. 

(In loving memory of our Boss, Saihara Aoi. May our shop's owner remain with in heart and recipe.)

But his usually watchful eyes have been too busy with Saihara and seeing where other patrons were seated. Kokichi is only now realizing exactly where Saihara has brought him. 

This is one of Saihara’s safe zones. A place of comfort. 

Actually looking around, instead of only observing Saihara, the entire place is rather nice with its surprisingly open plan. The entire wall of window that lets customers get natural sunlight, watching the waves go by… 

Purple eyes widen as their owner locks onto a veranda or pavilion up on a tiny peninsula. Maybe nothing more than a little outcropping of rock, but Kokichi can already imagine the peaceful view. It'll be a private and scenic place where the two of them can have a long chat. 

“Why don't we ask head up there after we eat?!” Kokichi happily exclaims. 

Saihara leans over to look out the window, a pale finger helpfully pointing to the little cliff like area. His lips twitch a bit. 

“O-oh, the look out spot?” comes the barista’s hesitant voice. Dark teal hair gets pushed back and those gorgeous eyes flicker around nervously. “It's a pretty popular place for new people or tourists to go v-visit so I thought that you had-”

A huge bowl of seafood ramen and a plate of squid ink pasta are carefully set down, along with some fried squid. Kokichi and Saihara both look at their smiling waitress, the detective murmuring a soft gasp, and both men slowly settle into their seats. Purple and gold lock onto one another. Then, Kokichi starts to fill their little bubble of privacy with his giggles. He looks down at his food and starts salivating at the smell, but it's his giggles that infect Saihara with a similar laughter. 

Getting to see yet another sheepishly relieved smile, like the one from earlier when Saihara asked him out, it makes Kokichi go into tunnel vision in an attempt to memorize it. 

They start to dig into their food and slowly build up a delicate but comfortable conversation. 

Other locals and employees all try to circle around to their quiet booth, introducing themselves and clearing wanting to make Kokichi himself feel at home. They all take interest in what Kokichi has to say about his major and hobby. A few even look over at ‘Shuukun’ with raised eyebrows and sly smiles. The graying chef comes over to give Saihara a big bear hug says that he's proud of Saihara for finding a ‘cute little genius to bring home’. 

Kokichi blushes from all the attention and happily snaps some pictures of his own. Having already exchanged contact information earlier, he quickly sends them over to Saihara. 

A more subdued but far more genuine red spreads around Saihara’s face. It drifts down to his neck and to his ears, rosey and warm, and Saihara smiles at Kokichi like he's made of moonlight. 

They get a baggy for the fried squid and head off to the more secluded seaside area. 

Walking around after such a nice meal is good for you, after all. And getting to do so side by side with your much calmer date is also nice. Being able to peer up and see Saihara’s faint grin full of earnest delight… 

That's right. 

Saihara, who talks too fast and rambles easily, whose soft pink lips quiver as he smiles, an adorable man that is relaxed yet stiff as Kokichi clings to him. 

Is the same person. 

Saihara, who smiles and thinks out each response while making drinks just for Kokichi, a relaxed and intelligent man who loves to talk about Kokichi's disturbing ideas. 

Is the same person. 

It's they finally reach a slope of grass and start traversing the old steps that lead to their destination, all that Kokichi can think about is how hard his heart is pounding. He can't help but be completely and utterly overjoyed. He and Saihara Shuichi are finally going to be utterly alone. There is just so much that Kokichi wants, actually needs, to say to Saihara. Just returning the other man's confession of love back at the Rabbit isn't enough.

The excitement combined with dancing sunlight is too much. 

Being able to feel Saihara’s warm sinking into Kokichi's body, past soft fabric, that can't be called enough either. Knowing exactly how relaxed the barista is becoming with each step is amazing. Kokichi wants to hold onto this man and smell these hints of cologne and coffee forever. He wants to keep dating him and do all sorts of things with Saihara. 

Saihara, who watches Kokichi almost every other day and still thinks Kokichi is unaware, a cripplingly shy man who has no idea that Kokichi had to grow up paranoid to survive. 

Kokichi sighs and snuggles closer into Saihara’s soft clothing. 

Each and every version of the man that Kokichi has gotten to see over these months is yet another piece to the puzzle. Just another side of Saihara Shuichi. Predictable yet spontaneous, intelligent and empathetic, ashamed and guilty; unable to fully hold back due to an intense subconscious need to know if Kokichi is safe. Especially from himself. Relatively benign even if all stalkers run the risk of becoming fatally dangerous. 

Kokichi has read all about the ‘young unnamed detective’. He knows exactly the kind of untreated trauma that the taller man has gone through. 

What better a person than Saihara to become inspired and enamored by? Who else has the kind of ensnaring thought processes that pull Kokichi into another world? Where else can Kokichi actually find the burning need to be touched, the first time in his life, if he's not next to Shuichi? 

It feels the same as switching mugs with the one Shuichi had already drank from. All Kokichi acquired then was getting to drink the coffee that Shuichi drank out of, while watching Shuichi unknowingly do the same, getting a long indirect kiss via sleight of hand. Transitory in the face of getting to use that mug each day due to not switching them back. Far more important than buying chessboard patterned clothing because Shuichi likes it and always says it suits him, despite hating chess. 

Shuichi. Shuichi. Shuichi-

They finish their short hike up to the top of the cliff. Green grass meets the sky and the sound of bird calls mix with ocean waves. 

Kokichi loves him.

Chuckling mischievously and releasing Shuichi's arm in favor of dart off towards the pavilion, Kokichi cries out, “Hurry up and come catch me, Saihara-chan! It'll be a race!”

Shuichi’s startled response is nearly drowned out by the beat of Kokichi's own, tell tale, heart. All Kokichi can hear is the idea of a gasp or shout. Followed by footsteps matching his own, gritty and loud tapping on old stone. It's fun to have Shuichi chase after him in a literal sense. Kokichi takes in the weathered circular walls that he's approaching, the sturdy wooden roof, and the round bench in the middle. Despite being shorter than Saihara, Kokichi manages to reach the little rest spot first. Wind blows as the panting writer turns to smile back, dark plum hair swept up in it all, and he stands at the edge of concrete and wood. 

It's even more private than Kokichi thought. 

How exciting, comes the buzzing conclusion reached by Kokichi's brain. 

The detective jogging up to him skids to a stop a yard away, breathing a bit heavier than before but not as much as Kokichi. Shuichi is obviously more in shape than he is. Must be all the coffee making. Possibly the stalking or even the training required to become a great detective. 

Kokichi puts his arms behind his back and tilts his head cutely, “It looks like Saihara-chan caught me after all.”

“No, that's wrong! You won because you… Ouma-kun?” Shuichi’s pretty eyes blink in confusion as Kokichi starts walking over to him. The smaller half of the couple steps away from the structure behind him, growing closer and closer to Shuichi. Until they're only just a few feet apart. 

“May I take your hat off once we sit down to eat?” Kokichi asks. Already taking the bag of fried squid and offering his hand for Shuichi to take. 

Breath hitching and shoulders tensing-

Shuichi nods as his hand gently grabs onto Kokichi's own. 

Walking up a step and into the little place somehow creates a special sort of atmosphere. It feels heavy in a way that settles all around them and makes Kokichi's neck tingle. But his chest grows light with anticipation at the same time. 

He sits down first and then firmly pats the wood at his right side. Kokichi's other hand pulling out the box of savory snacks from the takeout bag. 

Shuichi takes his place beside him and stares down at Kokichi's jawline, gulping, followed by the older man leaning down a bit. Only a quiet moment goes by before Kokichi's hands reach up for that black hat. The sight of his pale fingers closing in on the thing makes goosebumps raise up on Kokichi's arm. He hopes that Shuichi doesn't realize why. 

The fabric of the hat is soft and well cared for. 

Kokichi carefully lifts it off from its place on his Shuichi's head. Just like that, unmasked more personally, the face of the man that Kokichi loves is revealed. Those eyes that make him melt and the hair that drives him to write poems about the ocean. Pinpricks of eerie light shining out from choppy seas. Full yellow moons glowing down upon lost sailors. 

It is all too easy and simple to lean further into Shuichi's space, to tuck the hat just a bit too behind Kokichi's own body while the barista is caught up in sudden closeness. Kokichi smiles innocently in the way that gives his still youthful face a soft and boyish charm. The clash of his hands pulling him onto Shuichi's lap, despite that pure expression, the whiplash dynamic of a cute outfit on someone behaving with the intention to seduce; Shuichi falls backwards onto the bench with a quiet thud. 

“I really do love you so much for everything, Saihara-chan…” Kokichi whispers to the man under him. . “And you've been so very good to me too. Coming here wasn't supposed to be like this, you know?”

Simmering precious metals watch Kokichi's lips move with fascination. Shuichi's breath shudders. 

“What are you doing?” the pinned man asks. 

He actually sounds a bit frightened. Far more than Kokichi expects from just some closeness, too. Shuichi must truly feel guilty is he's not jumping at the chance to be intimate with the person he loves. The writer reminds himself that all of this has a good purpose. Kokichi isn't scaring Shuichi for kicks. 

Kokichi decides that some quick and dirty course correction is in order, “You mean to ask, what are we doing, because right now we are having a private chat about us.”

“About the Rilakkuma you knew I liked despite me never telling you. Or the way you follow me and take pictures.”

Everything even remotely relaxed about Saihara Shuichi drains out in but an instant. His already wide eyes seem to lose the light in them. Those healthily pink cheeks, flushed by the beginnings of sexual desire, pale until the man looks like he's been bleeding out. Kokichi wants to keep that look in his memory for later. Ever a fountain of ideas, Kokichi muses. 

“that's not no I'm I can't i”

And so a strangled streams of apologies and begging starts to flood out of Shuichi's wobbling mouth- reminding Kokichi of stagnant rain puddles lurking in craterous asphalt. Eyes clenched shut in fear and skin growing clammy despite the fair weather, combining with the shaking to set up a familiar scene. This is the part of Shuichi that could never grow past his kidnapping and the event surrounding it. 

“I love you. I love you. I love Shuichi. ”

It's merely a soft reminder. 

Sinking down into Shuichi's arms and repeating himself into the other's ear, “I love you. I love you. Shuichi, it's all going to be okay, see? Aren't my arms holding you? I adore you, so much that I even want you to touch me, and I think about you whenever I can't see you.”

Hearing those words just makes Shuichi choke harder on his despairing noises. 

“Shuichi is the best person I've ever met. The one good person that's been able to tolera-” Kokichi murmurs as he pulls back from Shuichi's ear. He gazes down at Shuichi's still distraught face and smiles as he watches desperation fill it.

Then two gleaming metal eyes lock into contact with twisting purple and Kokichi can see the way that Shuichi grits his teeth together. He's forcing out words and grappling his emotions sooner than Kokichi can try to finish his previously decided speech. 

“How I feel about you is so different th-than just tolerance, Ouma-kun!” and the man starts forcing himself up with shaking arms. “Why do you always say that about yourself as of you're some k-kind of problem, like everyone and everything should naturally ignore you at best when there is nothing wrong with you at all? The only wrong person here is me and even though I knew that I still kept doing it! It's always been me who… who ruins everyone.” 

Breathing heavily and sitting up properly, Shuichi grabs at his face with both hands and shudders. Kokichi himself has slid halfway off of the panicking man's lap. 

He's never felt like a failure before. Not like this. 

Kokichi snarls, “Why can't you realize that I don't care?!”

Shuichi’s hands jerk around as Kokichi yanks them down and away from Shuichi's face. Pricks and pins of anger rush across the writer, redness blotchy on his skin. 

“I've known about your stalking from the start! I've stolen your phone and smiled at how naive you must be to not even put a password on it! Saihara Shuichi, you've failed to hide a single thing from me,” Kokichi hisses and spits. 

His nails dig into Shuichi's limp hands. 

“But… then why?” is the horrified response that he receives. 

“You're kindest and the most intelligent human I've ever met!” Kokichi's shoulders jump as he laughs, “Anyone else would have sneered. Instead, you pulled me into your orbit while tripping head first into your own nightmares. There's no one else in this world who listens to me.”

Tiny broken sighs are his only reply. 

Shifting his body closer to Shuichi yet again, Kokichi arches his back as he presses himself into the detective's chest. Only the sound of their breathing and waves can be heard. Well muscled arms slowly wrap themselves around Kokichi's shoulders. Gently, as if Kokichi is made of delicate and fine china. 

“Lies or insults feel like the only things I can say sometimes,” Kokichi mutters. “But I'm not lying. You fascinate me, inspire me, and I've fallen for you.”

They sit clinging together on the wood over concrete bench for a while more. Shuichi actually tries to back up and make Kokichi realize just how bad a choice he's making, but Kokichi us unperturbed. The man's reaction to finding out about Shuichi's erotic fiction collection makes Shuichi pause instead. 

“Shumai really wrote porn of me? I thought I was hallucinating tho cloud files!” Kokichi says as his lips tug back into a leering smile. His eyes grow wide as he chomps at a piece of squid. For a moment all Shuichi can do us watch pearly white teeth chew into seasoned squid. 

Kokichi swallows and licks his lips. 

“Read some to me aloud,” the college student demands. “Tell me how you've wanted me.”

Croaking out the word ‘sure’, Shuichi watches as his lover stands up and uses both of their phones to take pictures. Some of them have Kokichi looks around sneakily and purposefully hide himself from the detective's viewing. A few maybe provocative poses and one absolutely sexual one go by. It makes Shuichi fidget and wonder. Kokichi turns back and shows off with a saucy grin. 

The detective's chessboard covered phone get dropped into his hands. 

“Take a good long look at these. Each one is all yours,” Kokichi says. 

Kokichi making a peace sign in front of the bench where Shuichi is sitting. Kokichi squeezing Shuichi close to him with his tongue peeking out. Shuichi's smile glowing with so much fondness that even his bloodshot eyes can't make the picture bad. Both of them smiling with mouths stuffed full by squid. A shot of Shuichi's hands rubbing at his eyes. Kokichi pulling the front of his own shirt away, smile sly and gaze seducing; rosy pink nipples perfectly captured. Kokichi angling the camera to show off his open mouth and fully exposed tongue, two fingers pressed inside. The lewd poses and a shot of Kokichi's bare stomach. The slightly protruding softness of the man's belly. The v dip of his hips. White shorts ending just above knee and calf. 

Warm hands caress their way to Shuichi's chin, and Kokichi pulls the detective's face up to look at him. 

Purple eyes drink up each bit of Shuichi's telling reactions. The barista can't hide his arousal and the sheer amount of love in his eyes. It's perfectly fine too. 

Kokichi is the same, in the end.

“Shuichi… Lets go to my place and play together, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It killed me because no smut. What the fuck my boys?


	4. Dark, Bright, Acidic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi isn't entirely used to this whole dating your stalker thing. Neither is Shuichi, even if he still seems unaware on his end. They make it work though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waaaay too late did this smut cum to me. 
> 
> Somehow, these two wanted to be naughty but not too naughty. I made it happen though! I made many things happen while drinking.

“Alright, I’m headed home from the war that is closing shop you sad fuckos!” Iruma shouts with glee, hands thrust high above her head.

Kokichi startles and turns back look at her fully, purple-white plaid sleeves rolled up past his elbows, a frown full of indignantly on his face. He’s just about to finish his own duties and check up on Shuichi too. But Iruma is leaving at least five minutes before anyone else, something that the past week has cemented as betraying the worker collective. Said workers currently being just the three of them. If Iruma leaves now… who will triple check that Kokichi has cleaned the espresso machine correctly?

“How fucking dare you leave us to close up,” Kokichi grits out in a exaggerated tone. ”Just so that you can make it to your second job of night walking! You cock zombie!?”

Iruma shivers and lets out a few husky giggles as she mumbles something about maintenance on ‘precious hubby Kiibo’. She’s always saying that kind of incomprehensible shit. Kokichi is still missing out on the in jokes even though they’ve been co-workers for a week or so. 

Who likens sex to fixing machinery? 

Coughing in order to collect herself, Iruma smugly cries out a ‘Only do what I would ya fuck booooiiiis!’ and races out the door. Kokichi watches the excess chains of her metal and turquoise belt crash against short shorts, and sighs.

They’re finally alone after closing time. Oh sure, Shuichi and Kokichi have been aloneish.

But the Iruma elders are across town at an all night bingo competition.

Rabbit Beans is all theirs.

Kokichi’s lips twist into a grinning leer that stretches ear to ear as he walks over to the windows, quickly making the blinds slap down while not yet going out to lower the front grate. Quiet chuckles bubble up from the man’s chest as a subtle warmth settles around him. Being all alone in an otherwise locked up store at night feels exciting. Especially since there have been plans for this all damn week.

Swerving around and feeling his pulse rate go up, Kokichi carefully makes his way over to his corner, sitting down on his booth way in the back. He unties his apron and listens to the faint sounds of Shuichi finishing his own cleaning duties. Kokichi shifts to get comfortable as his hands toss dark green fabric into the corner of the booth. Then he stretches his lithe body just to try and work out all the links from working. 

It's private. The very back of the building to the far left. When Kokichi sits here he can see each person that comes into the shop. No one can get behind him either. 

Shuichi is going to be walking out of the kitchen any moment now too. 

“Kokichi-san? I'm done with the back and wanted to know if you saw… Kokichi-san?” comes the floating pitch of Shuichi's voice. Though, the detective's words became full of subtle anticipation by that last pronunciation of Kokichi's name. Something to be expected though. 

Tonight's little mutual activities are an event that they've been thinking of. Or more one that Kokichi has done some begging and teasing for, until a squirmingly blissful Shuichi caved. 

Just yesterday they went to a local place that lets you print things out. From usbs, phones, or just copying pre-existing documents. Neither of them own household printers. So Kokichi got up early and nearly broke the lock to Shuichi's apartment to wake him up too. Woke him up and made them both ‘poor cheapo college student’ breakfast. Shuichi handled the coffee with the tell tale protectiveness of someone experienced in coffee snobbery.

Kokichi is still a mere apprentice in the art of caffeine romance. Watching his boyfriend get all instistant about making the coffee is adorable though.

White button down shirt and teal white peek past the wall where the front bar stops. Shuichi swiftly surveys the front parts of the shop. Then he stiffens, fingers tightening their grip, head slowly turning to stare at Kokichi's smug form. A dusting of pink settles over the barista. Not even his ears are safe from how flustered he's becoming. 

“Shumai should go retrieve the papers from his locker,” Kokichi says loudly. 

Golden eyes widen even though no one is around to hear either of them Kokichi can perfectly spot how Shuichi's legs must be shifting. 

“R-right I'll just go uh, go to get those them out of…” 

And Shuichi’s adorable face turns beet red. It's a huge change from how he acts when customers are around, his languid responses pairing with the shop's atmosphere and serving to lend him a cool air. Here and now is when Shuichi is all Kokichi's though. 

No one else can ever get to see Saihara Shuichi this way, Kokichi knows. Each and every single method of keeping them together has been considered for hours. 

To Kokichi, Shuichi is like the most expensive and rarest blend of coffee to exist. Desiring to monopolize him to this extent isn't normal or healthy. Kokichi understands that. Just as well as he understands that he's never had a close relationship that wasn't painful. A product of environments. Reading about ‘normal’ can't actually remove your experiences of ‘normal’. 

A strange and maybe disturbing relationship where neither of them actually hurt one another is infinitely preferable. Having this become their normal… 

The faint shwing of the kitchen door opening pulls Kokichi from his thoughts. Seeing his boyfriend walk around the front counters holding two disposable cups full of coffee with their bags over his shoulder. The man's lips twitch upwards shyly. Kokichi leers in return and snickers when Shuichi's face turns red again. 

God, Kokichi thinks, how can Shuichi be this sweet? 

The writer leans forward and rest his chin on a hand, “You gonna linger over there, stranger?”

Shuichi’s long legs immediately start taking him over to Kokichi's corner, stride balanced and steady. He doesn't even pause when he gets over to the table. Twin coffee cups are placed down without an ounce of hesitation or awkwardness. The bags are just as smoothly put down onto the chair opposite of Kokichi's booth. 

Fingers twitch over the the zipper of Shuichi's bag, the detective pausing before he looks over at Kokichi's smiling face. 

“You really want all of this,” Shuichi says to himself. 

Kokichi stares up at him. Then he glances down at his boyfriend's bag expectantly. The other man jolts and reaches down to open his bag with barely steady hands. Unclasping and flipping the cloth pull over lid, Shuichi carefully pulls out a small semi-transparent binder. It’s floppy plastic materials resist his first attempts to open it. Still.

The tiny hint of a smile on the detective's face highlights the way his gold eyes are full of anticipation. There’s no doubt in Kokichi’s mind that, same as when a triumphant Shuichi exited the little convenience store and moaned from a tiny kiss, all this shaking is from excitement. Even if he’s feeling shame or embarrassment over what he’ll be doing in a few moments-

Shuichi not feeling some measure of arousal over reading one of his sexual fantasies to the main subject himself is unthinkable.

Having Kokichi himself ask and even beg in a just as sexual manner clearly helps. For the man to go in alone and print his smut where other people could see? There’s no way that Shuichi isn’t looking forward to this.

Sliding over and patting the seat next to him, Kokichi chuckles, “Come on and sit down with me, beloved!”

The man turns to look at the entrance of the shop one last time. It’s a kind of thing where his body twists around and shows off the profile of his ass. Now that Kokichi has actually touched and groped the thing, he can fully assert that Saihara Shuichi was born blessed. Soft with firmness when you grab down, with a balanced mix of muscle and fat, the barista’s ass is a miracle of the universe. Looking at the way it’s full shape sticks out from the man’s tight black pants is a real treat. If Kokichi could reach that thick ass then he’d be slapping or squishing it. Shuichi always squeals wonderfully when Kokichi does that. He also moans super loudly when Kokichi nibbles on his thighs, ears too.

Round and perfect contours shift as Shuichi turns around and makes those last three steps to the booth, sitting down causing supple mass to mold into the seat. A pale hand reaches over and lightly pats at the detective’s upper thigh.

It jiggles wonderfully. Not that Kokichi can actually see it at the moment.

Maybe Kokichi can spank him until his rear is all red and hot to the touch, as punishment for being lewd in a ‘public place’.

For the time being though, Kokichi rearranges himself so that he’s resting right on Shuichi’s comfortable lap. It takes a few moments of giggles at his boyfriend’s sputtering and guiding the man’s arms around him though. Kokichi's shoes are soon enough scraping against the floor.

Shuichi sitting on him would probably feel even more amazing. Kokichi just doesn’t want to get suffocated by his much bigger boyfriend. He might not be 5’1 anymore, sure, but Shuichi still has at least six inches on Kokichi when it comes to height. And it feels like he's taller too. Perception is a hell of a drug. 

The writer can bring up face sitting later.

A harsh inhale happens from above and behind Kokichi’s patiently waiting body. Shuichi’s gasp is low and subtle, “Kokichi-san, what are you doing?”

Kokichi answers the other man by gently rolling his ass back. He spreads his legs until he can hook his feet behind Shuichi’s legs and then looks up at his wide eyes. Gold irises are almost completely overtaken by pitch black pupils. They’re clearly dilated by lust and staring down at Kokichi’s teasing grin with dark intent. It’s not like Shuichi is the only person with a great butt. A pearly white fang peeks out from Kokichi’s stretched lips.

Grinding and wiggling his hips just a bit more makes Shuichi groan. A hand unclenches from where it grips a binder full of smut and rests itself on Kokichi’s left thigh. That growing hardness under Kokichi’s ass is undeniable. The man pauses before rubbing back into his former stalker’s erection more, the action making his own body grow warm with desire.

Feeling the way those large hands are capable of caressing his body for hours was a rush in too many ways. Shuichi being both as meticulous as Kokichi but far slower. More patient and intimate then the almost clinical memorization the writer went with.

“Shuichi should start reading to me now,” Kokichi purrs. 

The husky tone to his voice makes Shuichi’s bulge twitch a bit. Smirking, the psychology student of the couple traces his left hand down from his still clothed body, to Shuichi's own. Wide and then narrowing eyes watch Kokichi force those warm fingers into his pliant flesh. 

“The surprise you wanted would be ruined if you could read it… “ the detective says. 

Kokichi gasps loudly, “Oh my beloved, that's so very correct of you! What shall we do about all this?”

Before the other man can react or respond to him, Kokichi yanks Shuichi's hand away and turns himself around. An almost shaky movement that requires his entire body to flip. Still, they're quickly pressed together chest to chest. 

Tented pants rubbing together. 

“Ah,” Shuichi says almost numbly. He stares down at purple hair and purple eyes, taking in the sultry smugness inherent to Kokichi's expression. 

Shuichi spends another small moment processing exactly what just happened before something like silent laughter makes him convulse. His breathing grows heavier, a touch frenzied, and his lips part so that hot air can escape from them. Just as well, as Kokichi wastes no time in going in for a kiss. There's no waiting for something like gaining entrance either. He just slips his tongue inside and glides the muscle against the roof of Shuichi's mouth. Strong arms snap around the writer's back, eagerly holding him tight enough to cause squirming. 

His body grows hot as sensations seemingly echo through them both, Kokichi unable to escape the rise of neediness coursing through him. Insistent burning, a steady throbbing, the demand for touching skyrocketing as Shuichi tries to dominate the kiss. 

Each cut off whisper of Kokichi's name sends a chill down the man's spine. Their tongues twist together and their teeth clack painfully, mouths trying to devour one another. It's perfect. 

Kokichi still pulls back for air. 

Smiling, he allows his fingers to tuck Shuichi's hair back. The drool shining on the man's lips is alluring despite how gross it ought to be. 

“Read to me now,” he says. “I won't be able to sneak any peeks at spoilers anymore!”

Rasping out something that is probably an affirmative, Shuichi's eyes slowly travel to behind Kokichi's head. His arms release their hold on the man and adjust so that the writings can be read. Kokichi smirks at the sound of the binder finally opening. Purple eyes close in favor of listening to the subtle rub of fingers on paper. Shuichi's breathing and his own mix together, a not unfamiliar melody. 

There's the sound of a gulp and the feeling of perspiration starting. 

“No amou… nt of coffee is waking up Ouma Kokichi. The man who usually types with virtuous speeds has resorted to slowly pecking at keys with sluggishly twitching fingers- hihis face looks pales and fl-” Shuichi breaks into nervous giggles before coughing. 

Kokichi blinks at him with eyebrows rising. 

Shuichi blushes up to his ears and slowly starts to speak, “Sorry… I'm just. I've never done this?”

It's no exactly a problem, Kokichi wants to say. Jitters are totally normal. Except that Kokichi is quietly realizing that, oh lord, he's never done something like this either. All the repressed nerves are smirking at him. 

“Continue!” Kokichi chirps. 

“I do decide to mmmake a free cup for the tired man,“ the detective sighs. 

Relatively smooth narrating followings after. Shuichi isn't the best orator or writer, his edited versions being deleted before their first official date. His shivers and hitched tone as his confined dick gets caressed are great though. Kokichi just makes sure that his hand is extremely faint.

“It is when I do require the sheep- sheet! Uh, and begin to stand once more, that I spot the screen of ppft,” Shuichi begins to wheeze. His giggles return and expand into outright laughing. 

Kokichi glares up at his boyfriend and proceeds to start crackling up, “Why did you ‘require’ a sheep?!”

“It really really sa-sasys that!” Shuichi laughs. 

His grin of disbelief and good humor proves infectious, Kokichi's belly soon tight with laughter instead of just arousal. 

“And y-you’re so out of chkaracter I don't know when I write this but it was so ooph!” the barista gets cut off by a chaste kiss. When Kokichi pulls away, Shuichi takes in deep bubbly breaths.”Kokichi-san, thank you.”

“But I called your eyes amethyst orbs and you by purplenette.” he admits.

Kokichi gasps and rears back as if in shock, “That is so fucking horrible and I don't know you anymore.”

Shuichi’s mouth contort as he tries not to smile. 

“Oh God, I'll have to edit it into submission,” Kokichi says with faux terror. “My limpid tears, gently coalescing into the lovely corners of my doe eyes, shine with inner conflict and cause my gemstone irises to refl-”

Shuichi is overtaken by hiccups and actual tears fill up his eyes. A tiny squeak of ‘that is too much Oh God Kokichi’ happens before a hand is slapped over Shuichi face. 

Both men start laughing again. 

Right up until their groins meet once more, then all the sexual tensions just flows right back into them, bodies still wanting sex. There is a reason why blue balling sucks so much. Dicks just don't say no if you test them and then pull away the prospect of sex. Kokichi inhales sharply as his boner returns full force. 

The jitter born chuckles die down and settle into a pregnant silence. Shuichi brings a hand to his chin, staring into space, thick lashes batting. 

“Maybe I should just give a run down?” Shuichi slowly ponders. 

Considering the use of words like ‘purplenette’, Kokichi sort of agrees. He's too horny to do editing. Or maybe editing porn would also be erotic. 

He shrugs in the end. Just leans into the crook of Shuichi's neck in order to smell the faint scent of aftershave. Perhaps it's actually cologne instead though, since Shuichi doesn't seem the type require frequent shaving. 

“Just do it however you feel best,” Kokichi mutters. “Seeing you like this alone is amazing.”

Mouthing at smooth skin is nice. Feeling Shuichi's pulse start to pick up with steady thumps, as Kokichi's lips ghost across taunt skin, carefully pushing the man's neck back for better access. Swiping his tongue against a bobbing Adam's apple and getting to feel Shuichi gulp? It's stupidly amazing. 

The barista shifts and wraps one of his arms back around Kokichi, this time the man's waist. 

“Well… you're still sleeping and I'm getting up. I look at your screen by mistake and see that it's porn of your characters,” he says. “Really explicit smut and I- moving on.”

Kokichi gasps against Shuichi's neck, ”Ooooh!”

"What kind of nasty did fantasy me write?" the writer asks.

Shuichi groans when his erection starts getting fondled again. Wide eyes watch the detective close his own eyes. Probably from Kokichi teasingly tugging at the zipper black pants. Grinding forward just a bit too slowly is nice. Raises the tension again, and Kokichi can't help but want more than before. Honestly…

How dare Shuichi be so shockingly cute. Doesn't he know that being like that is illegal?

The memories of how those hands had been tugging at Kokichi's sleeves yesterday makes something strange fill up Kokichi's chest. But it's not unfamiliar. Three complimentary emotions swirl inside of him while he unbuttons Shuichi's pants.

"It didn't have any details in my dreams, uh, but next you woke up. And you were-" Shuichi cuts off when he hears Kokichi undoing his own pants.

Kokichi glances up at the man and smirks, "Was I mad at you? Did you get a wet dream of me bullying you?"

Teasing, flirty, but Shuichi's twitch is rather telling. Facial muscles aching from how hard he's smiling, Kokichi nips at Shuichi's flushing neck.

"You know that the grate isn't down, right?" Kokichi whispers into Shuichi's ear. He feels the subtle shudder that runs down Shuichi's spine and gently pats the man's stiff shoulders. "Sure hope that Iruma didn't forget anything. Why- she'd walk right in the front door using her key! Nishishishi."

Gold eyes snap open and Shuichi's body jolts. Though they're being held together and neither of them were close to flying off the seat, the sudden movement fills Kokichi with the sensation of falling, and it combines with how their penises press against one another. It is absolutely a pleasant experience. As is how much harder Shuichi seems to get at the thought of being caught. Interesting.

Shuichi mumbles about Iruma never skipping bi-monthly maintenance. Kokichi rolls is his eyes and gives the man a big bite mark on his neck. Just goes down to near his pulse and chomps a bit, the sudden feeling of hard teeth digging into skin making Shuichi grip down on Kokichi's waist.

"I'll continue!" the detective squeaks.

Kokichi chuckles for a reason other than amusement. It's low and makes his boyfriend squirm a bit.

And boy, does that feel great. So great that Kokichi deigns to reward the man by freeing both of their cocks from the constrictive prisons called pants.

Poor little Shumai must be dying.

Shuichi coughs, "I asked you how you could do the smut thing, because me in the dream felt a little angry after seeing it? Which is. Stupid."

The barista sets the binder aside and uses his other hand to start feeling up Kokichi's ass.

"Well, I do highlight the whole sexual tension thing a lot," Kokichi says lowly. “But I've never written actual erotica. In public.”

His boyfriend stares down at how pale hands are slowly lining their cocks up. Then, the detective carefully recounts how he scolded Kokichi for writing porn in public. And accused Kokichi of wanting Shuichi to catch him, of how that Kokichi got shy and needy from it all.

Fantasy Kokichi even confesses that he wrote the characters to be them. It's something that makes Kokichi hold back a giggle, because Shuichi isn't entirely off base there. One hand twirling his hair and the other starting to try give Shuichi and himself a hand job- Kokichi almost wishes he could be that sort of stereotype.

"How old was this dream?" he asks.

Shuichi pouts and looks away. He mumbles something about it being written at two in the morning after only an hour of sleep. Kokichi hopes that that's the truth. Using orbs to describe eyes is a sin.

Finally finding a good angle and rhythm, Kokichi starts pumping their dicks and happily sighs as his hips get fully used to rolling forward. Shuichi reflexively digs his nails into the other man's still clothed bottom. His breathing echoes loudly into Kokichi's ears, warmth sinking into them both.

Kokichi just smiles and runs a finger down a particularly prominent vein on his former stalker's cock. Mostly former stalker. That look in Shuichi's eyes when Kokichi allows or provides new picture.

The skin of Shuichi's penis is soft, though pulled taunter by how hard he is. The dick itself has a slight right leaning curve too, but the almost angry red tip and the veins draw the most attention. After noting that Shuichi is circumcised. Kind of rare to see in Japan. It makes Shuichi's dick seem naked. Wait, of course it's naked. It's literally an uncovered penis. 

“So what did your subconscious have happen next?” comes Kokichi's question. Really, he’s only a little invested in what happens to dream him. 

It's all in good curiosity and not because Kokichi might be willing to do stuff like role-playing. Ha, who'd want to see their lover act all tough and disapproving? The man is going to read it himself for entirely removed reasons. Finding the idea of your lover ravishing you to be attractive is common. Possibly the most common fantasy. For Kokichi though, it's another thrill of possibilities. 

How much longer until Saihara Shuichi sinks his teeth in? 

Moans and sighs escape Shuichi's lips as he tries to talk, "You really- you were obvious in how much you wanted it. You got hard right from me being upset and started talking about how y- Ah!"

"Classic wish fulfilment," Kokichi murmurs thoughtfully. Shuichi isn't too wrong in a manner of speaking. "Not bad either. After that?"

A pale thumb lazily rotates around the head of Shuichi's dick as their cocks throb and thrust together. Precum gets smeared without a care and purple eyes watch as more drips down. 

Sucking Shuichi's dick will be fun to try. If not today, then absolutely tomorrow or the next. Getting a blowjob is also such a precious idea. Watching a nervous Shuichi give his ‘first’ while patiently explaining how to do it… Glancing up to watch the detective close and open his mouth, wordless despite his best efforts, Kokichi gets to see rosey lips wobble and pout. The man would look gorgeous trying to swallow down a cock. Kokichi starts panting as visions of his fingers thrusting past those lips swim around. 

Shuichi's breathing grows even more irregular as well. The pulsing of his dick makes it clear that he's about to orgasm at any moment.

Kokichi lets go of their precum covered members and leans back. 

“You b-begged me to fuck you!” Shuichi shouts. 

The sound of his lust filled voice echoes. This sort of loudness is pretty much something that Kokichi saw coming, given how quiet Shuichi is normally. 

But the writer just laughs and grins smugly. A single bounce of his hips makes their cocks slide together. Narrow slivers of gold peek out from thick eyelashes. Shuichi watches with an almost anguished grimace as a pale finger teases him, gently rubbing at the large glans of his penis. Kokichi moans when Shuichi's hands start to grab at him out of pure desperation. 

“That's so adorable of you, sweetie!” his playful voice gasps out. “But you gotta keep going, or I won't let you orgasm all over me.”

Carefully balancing himself, Kokichi lifts is hips into the air and pulls his pants down more. He puts on a show by biting his bottom lip and starts thrusting himself onto Shuichi's penis. It's a gentle process in accordance with Kokichi's testicles being involved. The feeling of the detective's pulsing cock rubbing all over Kokichi is insane. Kokichi even strains his muscles further by allowing the head of Shuichi's dick the honor of feeling his bare ass. 

All good things come to an end though. Kokichi isn't exactly going to the gym lately. He's not sure if this town even has one. There's a lot it doesn't have. 

“There isn't anymore to it, I'm sorry I didn't know, I just deleted it all ah-and that's all I could of anything!” Shuichi rambles as he becomes further undone. 

The man's eyes open wide and stare into Kokichi with something that can only be described as wanton lust. 

“I'll make it up to you and I promise I'll write it even better f-” but whatever he was about to say is cut off when Kokichi's hand returns to pumping their dicks. “Oh fuck! I'm gonna cum soon… ngh! Kokichi, Kokichi, you feel so good!”

Kokichi hums appreciatively, “Does Shuichi love me? Do you want me to fuck you soon?”

“Please, Kokichi please let me!”

Shuichi’s cock starts throbbing and jumping within Kokichi's firm grip. What little sense of fear or dignity left in Shuichi snaps. He yanks Kokichi's body towards his own and keeps grinding up. All Kokichi can hear is the rush of blood and Shuichi's dirty thoughts filling the air. It really seems like Shuichi wants nothing more than for Kokichi to be intimate with him. The bedrock that each fantasy is based off of remains the same, acceptance. Kokichi wanting him back. 

Also, a lot of exhibitionism and begging. 

Relaxing into the tight embrace, Kokichi moans when Shuichi thrusts right against his frenulum. If things continue like this then Kokichi might cum first. 

He has to focus though. Just a little experiment. Panting and sweaty, “You weren't wrong about the one thing. All those conversations lead to some characters becoming a lot like us.”

Shuichi’s body slows it's intense pace. Kokichi takes the opportunity to force him back, using the full weight of his body on the needy detective. A bead of sweat runs down Kokichi's face. He wonders if he looks just as desperate to cum. If Shuichi is think about how absolutely and perfectly lewd his boyfriend is being. Purple hair swaying in the air as their heated bodies approach climax. The other man looks dazed. 

A strange kind of contentment washes over Kokichi. 

Even a straightforward and transparent Shuichi isn't boring. 

He's never going to let Shuichi go. Even if he fully figures out each bit and pinpoint sized element of Saihara Shuichi's existence, Kokichi will never ever let this man slip through his fingers. The flushed body before him and it's owner will both belong to him forever. It's unhealthy. It's probably not going to end well for anyone if Kokichi gives into the call of codependency. Possession does not a good relationship make. 

Kokichi glares up at his lover with a vicious leer and nips at parted lips, not once breaking eye contact. 

What does a ‘lucky piece of gutter trash’ know about good relationships? 

“They watched as the limp body slide down to the bathroom floor, blood smearing a traitorous trail, their hands shaking.”

A shape inhale and Shuichi's hips shutter as if confused, eyes swimming with slow realization.. 

“Masami tried to figure out what exactly was making them shake, but their eyes focused on the wet knife instead. The blade was in their hands now. It had been for a while,” Kokichi murmurs into Shuichi's mouth. “A quiet moment of laughter was all the warning given before blood soaked arms embraced them from behind.”

Continuing to narrate, Kokichi's lidded gaze evenly meets gold, “Behind them came a voice seething with relief and rapture. ‘See,’ the man said. ‘Don't you think it feels so much better now?’- and Masami couldn't deny it.”

Dilated pupils become obscured by fluttering eyelashes, hot breaths mixing together, Kokichi takes his lover's penis into his hand one final time. No more teasing and no more games in sight. Shuichi's cock is truly soaked with sexual fluids now. Each pass of Kokichi's soft hand makes obscene noises, joining the symphony of husky moans and subtle groans. Each second longer results in an even louder Shuichi. It's like all the reasons for his silence have melted away. 

Precum seems to flood around Kokichi's tugging hand. It rushes down his fingers. Happily contributes the the utter mess on their clothing

“I need you,” Kokichi whispers. “Shuichi, I love you.”

The cock in Kokichi's hand ejaculates barely even a second after he finishes speaking. Shuichi's face gets hidden by a shaking hand, and Kokichi once more gets yanked towards the other man. He wiggles his hips and frotts against Shuichi's cumming penis. Glancing down to check the mess isn't even necessary. He can feel the hot semen sticking up their skin and clothing. 

Shuichi’s keening is addictive. Each moment of Kokichi brutally teasing his over-sensitive dick causes more. Smiling gently and softly patting the detective's jawline, Kokichi asks if it really felt good. 

He gets picked up and laid on the booth in a heartbeat, his eyes widening in shock. Shuichi looks down at Kokichi's tense form and pants. His bliss filled stare bores holes into Kokichi's own. Kokichi squeezes the leather of his usual seat and scrambles to grab his forgotten apron, not entirely sure what Shuichi's plan is.

Adrenaline races through his veins like an unexpected dose of something fun and new. 

Drool pools into the corners of Shuichi's open mouth. He swallows and the tip of his pink tongue licks his lips. Shuichi ducks down in order to evenly pull Kokichi's pants down, and the man watches with anticipation. 

Kokichi sees his cock throb almost painfully. It's even better when Shuichi curiously investigates his foreskin. Pale fingers carefully pull it all the way down, others gently rubbing at the previously concealed skin if Kokichi's length. The feeling makes the writer bite back a moan. He's too far gone for this, he really is, but Kokichi can't look away as those saliva covers lips near his penis. 

“You do that and I swear, I will not last long!” Kokichi hisses. 

Shuichi just stares at him all hazy eyed. For one reason or another, those darkened gold eyes are shining wetly, and they watch him for another moment. Then, Shuichi's mouth opens up just to release his tongue. Pink muscle quickly laps against Kokichi's erection. A grimace at the taste of precum soon follows. Purple eyes watch as Shuichi's tongue spreads the taste of Kokichi's dick inside of his mouth. 

Kokichi groans. 

Barely even a second in and his cock has finally had enough. He needs to cum as soon as possible, but there's no way he can rush Shuichi. Especially not when Shuichi is trying to take charge like this. 

He wants to help Shuichi get better. He wants to make Shuichi need him forever. He wants-

A sudden rush of hot air makes Kokichi's dick twitch repeatedly, and he snaps his eyes open just in time to see his lover loosen his jaw. He's not sure when he even closed his eyes. But the second he opens them reveals half lidded eyes staring up at him. Shuichi doesn't even look capable of rational thought. 

“There's no way you'll be able to actu- Oh!” Kokichi cries out when Shuichi starts sucking right at his tip. 

Shuichi’s drooling mouth travels down Kokichi's cock, spreading heat and saliva as the detective mutters Kokichi's name like a mantra. God, what Kokichi wouldn't give to just thrust right into that mouth. The man would be so shocked at first. But it's Shuichi and Kokichi can't imagine that he would do anything but get off on being facefucked.   
Moaning and giving into the urge to move, Kokichi bounces his hips and tries to force out a warning. 

But the feeling of Shuichi's tongue gliding messily around his cock is too good. Feeling his breath and subtle moans at the base of Kokichi's cock, the way that the barista stays still so that Kokichi can rut against his face, it's too much. Eyes gaze blankly at the ceiling as Kokichi's entire body seizes up. 

“Shuuichi!” Kokichi gasps, feeling pleasure pulse and soar. 

Then all of it tears out of him. He can hear Shuichi's shocked noises, probably from cum shooting all over his face, but Kokichi's vision goes black and blank. His pulse drowns out all sound in favor of pulling Kokichi away. The writer still gets pulled back again though, body trembling and genitals sensitive with post orgasm bliss.

Kokichi always gets far too limp after sex. It's pathetic how he has to exert himself just to look at Shuichi again. The sight is worth it though. 

Shuichi really did get covered by semen. He looks beautiful with those white strands of cum on his face, in his dark teal hair. The white fluids make his already lewd expression turn into something obscene. It's a tear worthy shame that Kokichi missed it. 

A jolt of fear still runs through Kokichi despite himself. It has nothing to do with Shuichi, and he knows that the detective wo- Kokichi tries to say something but groans instead

“Ah… the cum is starting to dry on me,” Shuichi says. 

Right, Shuichi has never done this before. He has no idea how to get cum out of his hair. 

Kokichi huffs, “My place.”

Shuichi’s response is an embarrassed ‘hnnnrgh’, something that makes Kokichi feel fuzzy and warm inside. Quiet irrational twitches of fright die down back to where they belong. 

They help carry one another across the street to Kokichi's apartment. Of course, they do finish closing up first. And wipe off most of the cum from Shuichi's face. Kokichi may or may not have rub some of it in while recording it on his phone. Despite all of their very recent sexual activities, Shuichi still flounders cutely in the face of Kokichi's humble apartment. 

“Is it really okay for me to be in here, Kokichi-san?” Shuichi asks as if his breath doesn't smell like Kokichi's cock. 

Kokichi responds by licking his jawlinem

Needless to say, Shuichi squeaks loudly when Kokichi hands over his own precum soaked underwear. Kokichi smirks up at the older man and waltzes off towards the bathroom. He strips his dirtier clothing the entire way, only looking back after his pants drop. 

“Don't you want to clean up? Or would you rather cum all over my briefs and make me wear them?” he asks with a delicately raised eyebrow.”

Shuichi’s wide eyes watch him wink. 

The man's footsteps follow after Kokichi's own soon enough. Just as they should. 

Weeks go by like that. Stupidly domestic and then raunchy sex wherever they can manage it. It feels nice, and Kokichi can picture them getting entangled in one another's webs. Not that Shuichi seems to have any real idea. Kokichi prefers it that way though. He's certain that Shuichi knows that neither of them are quite right. Whether Shuichi fully understands Kokichi right now or not, Kokichi would rather have them talk about it gradually. Even if a big blow up would be more interesting. 

Kokichi meets Shuichi's uncle with a bright smile and leaves the house with pictures of files on his phone. 

It's nearing autumn when a shaking and expressionless Shuichi runs into the employee bathroom. Kokichi hasn't seen him shake that badly in months. Maybe not since a drunk Kokichi decided to make his ‘own original blend’ with a drink Miu assisting him. 

Spotting his phone on one of the kitchen counters is children's play. Walking over and grabbing it, Kokichi looks down at the article on Shuichi's phone and smiles. Miu can handle the shop for now. 

[Escaped Serial Murderer and Child Kidnapper found brutally killed in slums,] 

Kokichi needs to go comfort his crying boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I certainly made it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder if someone can guess the twisty turnies owo;


End file.
